The One Where
by RunBoyRunLifeIsOnUrHeels
Summary: Hydra takes an interest in the Nogitsune (and how Stiles was able to remove him). The Avengers take an interest in Stiles (and Malia). The Beacon Hills pack (mainly Scott and Lydia) realize they should have taken a little more interest in Stiles and Malia from the start. Now Hydra is after Stiles and the Avengers have adopted a boy and his pet coyote. (Stiles&Malia friendship)
1. Stiles meets the Avengers and Hydra

Please leave a review! (Cross posted on AO3)

* * *

Malia was the only one to would stand within a three-foot radius of him when it was all over. Even after they broke up. Stiles ended it a few weeks after Alison woke from her coma. He expected Malia to leave, join her pack once she didn't have an obligation to him. Instead she shrugged and said it was okay and asked if he could make them chicken for dinner.

A voice in his head, painfully reminiscent of memories he wished he didn't have, told him to press it, to explain that she was free now. That she should go be happy with the others. Be safe with the others.  
Another voice, smaller, begged for her to stay.

The others stayed away, drifted further and further from his life. Stiles never blamed them. He probably would have done the same thing. Alison almost died. He kidnapped Lydia, stabbed Scott, killed Aden. He wished he could leave him behind too.

He asked her once. He asked Malia, how she could do it. How she could stand next to him after everything he's done.

"You stood next to me," she explained with a whisper and a flash of blue eyes. They were bright in the darkness of his room. "And you're my human."

Stiles didn't press if further, Malia pressed her face into his chest.

* * *

They caught them in the middle of the night. Malia demanded ice-cream and Stiles couldn't say no. He was happy for the first time in months, it deserved ice-cream. The atmosphere suddenly changed, Malia's eyes flashed and then one of the tires of the Jeep blow out. They spun off the road, coming to a stop when the back end hit a tree.

People melted from the darkness, attacking quick and efficiently. Stiles yelled for Malia to run, as the windshield shattered, spraying them in glass. Something pulled open his door, dragging him out into the darkness. There was a sting in his arm and the world swam in his vision.

Malia growled and someone yelled for them to bring her too.

"This is your fault," a voice whispered in his ear, "You should have made her leave."

The world went dark.

* * *

He woke up strapped down. His body felt heavy and the lights were too bright. Voices demanded to know how he was able to do it. Stiles didn't know what was going on.

He said he didn't know.

They weren't pleased.

He told them he didn't know what they were talking about.

They told him that "They don't play games."

Then there was pain.

* * *

The next time he woke up, he was alone. Still strapped to the chair and his body sore. He smelled sour, of sweat and urine, tears and blood. His head lulled to the side, a clipboard lay abandon.

Hydra was on the top next to a neat little logo.

His name was written right below it. His real name.

Everything else was foreign. Stiles couldn't focus enough to figure out if it actually another language or if he was losing it again. He couldn't count his fingers, the straps wouldn't let him move. He kept loosing count.

The door opened and a woman entered. She checked him over. Stiles tried to say something but his tongue was too heavy to cooperate. She left before he could figure out how to get it to work. A man came back shortly after with a needle.

He was getting used to the world fading into darkness.

* * *

The next time he woke they asked about the void, the Kitsune and the Nogitsune.

Stiles didn't tell them anything. They never brought up anyone from home. They didn't ask about Scott or any of the other wolves. There was nothing about Malia, Alison, Lydia or his dad. Stiles figured that he were to go out, at least he bring everything he knew with him.

* * *

Time passed and they never let him die. Eventually they gave him a cell. It had the basic necessities. A cot in one corner and a sink and toilet in the other. Once they threw him in a shower, cleaning him with a cold spray and leaving fresh cloths in his room.

Stiles wasn't sure how many days passed. Not to many, he hoped.

He hoped for a lot of things during that time.

He hoped Malia made it away safely. He never asked them, just in case. He would rather hold on to the idea that she did, than to know for sure.

He hoped that no one was looking for him. That everyone just accepted he was gone. They didn't need to waste their time or resources to find him. They were better off without him. His father had Scott, Melissa and the rest of the pack. They would take care of each other.

A voice, the same one that said to keep Malia, hoped they would come for him anyways.

He tried to block that voice out. Lucky for him, they didn't leave him alone with his thoughts very often.

* * *

He woke up to the sounds of gunshots. The door shook with the sound of explosions. People were yelling, German, Stiles realized at some point during his stay. The door was thrown open, a man in red white and blue jumpsuit was there, holding an American themed shield.

Stiles cowered in the corner, pushing himself between the cot and the wall. Then the man was stumbling forward, and a blur pushed past him. Stiles lost the ability to breath, Malia was on top of him. She was a dirty as he was, her eyes a bright blue.

Stiles couldn't breathe. Malia pulled away, and dragged him to his feet. She was telling him to count his fingers. She begged him to count to ten. He couldn't. Everything hurt and he couldn't get air. He was vaguely aware of more people around them, pulling them from the room. He felt a prick in his arm, something he was far too familiar with. The flash of blue from Malia's eyes was comforting as everything went black.

* * *

This time he woke up warm and surprisingly pain free. He was comfortable, his body light like he was floating on a cloud. He wasn't awake for long. But he heard Malia tell him it was okay before he faded out.

* * *

The next time he woke up, Malia was curled up at his feet. There was an IV in his arm and wires on his fingers. A heart monitor beeped almost silently to his right.

He knew he wasn't in a normal hospital, at least not one near Beacon Hills. He spent too much time in them. The room was too clean, a pearl white instead of the off white. It lacked the usual hospital smell of cleaning products and sickness.

His door opened and Malia snapped awake, crouching in front of his bed before he could do anything.

A man in a dark suit barely blinked, leading a group of people into the room. Malia stood down, crawling back into the bed. A handful of them looked familiar. The tall short-haired blond saved him, his mind supplied. The group took seats around the room, one of them went to his chart, flipping through it before pulling out a small pen light.

"Hello Mr. Stilinski," the man in the suit said, sticking out a hand, "I'm Coulson. I'm sure you have some questions."

They told him what they could. He was taken by Hydra, though they were still trying to figure out why.

They didn't ask if he knew. He was thankful for that.

But he told them anyways. It was like someone hit play or eject. Everything came out. How he got Scott bitten, Peter, the alpha pack, Kate and Gerard Argent.

The Nogitsune.

He told them how they should have left him there. Just saved Malia and left him there to rot. He wasn't any better than Hydra, he should have gone down with them.

A woman, the only one in the group, swore, kicking her chair back. Stiles flinched but remained focused on his fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

She stomped over, grabbing his chin with her thin fingers. She didn't make him look away from his hands.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Malia growled, drawing closer to Stiles. Her eyes were on the woman.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

"Ten" a new voice added. Stile's jerked at the sound of the voice, and the shortest blond smiled at him. Stile recognized it, it was the same one he practiced in the mirror. It was shattered around the edges, but only if you were looking, like it was a mask that was broke and painted over.

Stiles didn't realize he was counting out loud. Or maybe it was obvious.

The woman pulled his chin lightly until he was staring into her eyes. "It was not your fault," She said. She sounded so sure, and for a moment Stiles believed her.

"Has anyone told you that before?" a man interrupted, one of the shortest with dark hair. He was painfully familiar, but Stiles couldn't figure out why.

Stiles shook his head, the woman refusing to release her grip on his face.

The man's face darkened, "It isn't your fault kid." He said, he moved to the edge of his chair drawing closer. "It is not your fault,"

"But," Stiles stammered, his eyes stung and tears began to weld up. He refused to let them fall.

"I spent every day telling bird boy that until he believed it," The man ranted.

Coulson hissed, "Tony," glaring at the man.

The short haired blond ducked his head, hiding a smile. Maybe he wasn't as broken as Stiles thought.

"And I will spend every day reminding you of that fact until you do too."

"Why?"

"Because," the tallest blond with long flowing hair boomed, his voice was loud and deep, yet oddly comforting, "no person should have such knowledge of war, especially one so young. You are a child with the heart of the gods. I refuse to allow another to fall because of it."

"We've all been there." The curly haired man said, still holding Stiles' chart. He seemed greener now than earlier.

"I've done my research on you." The short brunet said, leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in one of his hands. Stiles felt like he was being observed like a puzzle or science excitement. "Between police reports, medical information and various notes from teachers, your story checks out. From what I can tell, you are brilliant. A bit of a smartass and ADHD, but brilliant none the less. You went through everything and your GPA never slipped under a 3.8. If shield wasn't stepping in, I would be."

"Tony," Coulson hissed again.

"SHIELD," Stiles whispered as things started to click into place. His eyes flicked around the room, Captain America, Thor, Hawkeye, Black Widow, IronMan: his mind supplied. "Oh my fucking god," he swore at the ceiling, earning a few laughs around the room. Malia nudged his side lightly, laying a warm hand on his stomach. "Fuck"


	2. Meanwhile in Beacon Hills

Chapter Summary: Beacon Hill's side of the first chapter. Allison's view of how the group - Lydia and Scott in particular - acted towards Stiles while she was in the hospital. By the time she gets the chance to smack some sense into them, it's too late. Two weeks later, SHIELD stops by long enough to talk to the Sheriff and get some paper work signed. At least someone in town is willing to do what is right to let Stiles and Malia heal.

 **Trigger warnings for mental illness, an indirect mention of suicide and mention of rape.**

* * *

The first time Allison woke up it was to bright lights and her father's tired face. She wasn't awake long; back under in a few blinks.

The next time she woke up, the room was dark and her father was asleep in one of the plastic chairs next to her bed. His hand was warm, wrapped loosely around hers.

Time moved in flashes for a while after that. Days and nights blended to a gray blur. Her father, Lydia, Scott: someone was always there when she woke up.

The first time she was awake long enough to clear a bit of the fog, she asked about Stiles. She fought for him, almost died for him. She had to know what happened.

Scott was the only one there at the time. "Later," he said, peppering her hand in kisses, "You're finally awake." She let him whisper loving words into her ear, putting her back to sleep.

But she didn't stop asking. She asked Lydia, Scott, Lydia and Scott, but every time they changed the subject.

It was four flashes later when she finally saw her father again. He seemed less tired than before, they started crying at the same time, and Allison had never seen him so broken before, not even when her mother died. Chris cried with slow falling tears and Allison worked herself into body shaking sobs. Chris calmed her down quickly, before taking any of the stitches in her chest. A nurse, not Melissa, watched them like a hawk. They cried, apologized and whispered "I love you" for a few minutes. The nurse left them soon after Allison calmed down enough to her satisfaction.

"Dad," Allison croaked, her voice rough with lack of use.

Chris wiped a tear from his daughter's cheek, waiting for her to continue.

"Stiles?" She asked, "What happened?"

"Scott or Lydia..." he trailed off, looking unsure and pained.

"They won't tell me anything. I have - I need to know."

Chris shook his head with a frown, "They beat the Nogitsune.

"Is he dead?" she pressed, "You can tell me," new tears started to well up.

"Last I heard he was alive,"  
Allison let out a long breath, as relief washed over her. "Then why won't they talk about it. Why doesn't he visit?"

"I don't know." Chris whispered.  
They sat in silence until Allison drifted back to sleep

She didn't press it with her father, but asked every time anyone else was over. Lydia always changed the subject, so subtle that Allison wouldn't notice until after she was gone. Scott was less subtle but even more stubborn.

Eventually Allison stopped asking. Based on the twinge around Lydia's eyes and the way Scott's shoulders tensed, she assumed he was healing. Maybe he wasn't ready to see her. Maybe he wasn't ready to face the hospital.

She didn't blame him. She couldn't go into their old basement after Gernard.

It hurt that he didn't visit, but she understood.

Time moved on, her pain med dosage went down and physical therapy started. She had to rebuild the strength lost from the punctured lung.

The doctors were surprised by the speed she was recovering. Allison was pretty sure that Scott's black-vein-pain-zap thing had something to do with it.

After she was released and a week of being home, Scott mentioned a party. "It will be to celebrate you getting out and getting better," he explained.  
She was hesitant. She wasn't healed yet, not completely anyways.

"Everyone is going to be here," Scott promised.

She didn't need another reason.

* * *

Everyone was not there. Specifically, Stiles was not there.  
Lydia was the one to pick her up, driving to Scott's in a pleasant silence.

She finally got to meet Kira, bonding over hidden family secrets and life changing supernatural announcements.

Isaac showed up with Derek and Peter in tow. The teen sent her a small wave while the other two ducked into opposite corners of the room.

Danny brought Ethan. "None of you are subtle," he said in way of explanation.

Two hours passed and Stiles wasn't there. Two hours and Allison finally cracked, "Where's Stiles?"

Lydia and Scott shared a look that Allison couldn't read.

"Probably with Malia," Kira said, sounding more like a question than a statement.

Allison turned her sites to the other girl, stalking closer. "Why aren't they here?' She demanded.

Kira took a step back.

Allison knew she needed to reign herself in, Kira was the only one to answer, she was the only one helping. But weeks of worry and desperation clawed their way out.  
There was a hand on her shoulder, fingers small and nails painted red.

Lydia.

"Allison," she said. Her grip was light, still worried about hurting her. "Obviously they didn't show up."

Allison flinched away, less careful of her own wounds. She grunted, wrapping an arm around her chest. Kira steadied her with a hand on her arm. Scott darted forward but froze at Lydia's side when Allison glared.

"Why aren't they here? They aren't back in Eichen House are they? My dad said we got the Nogitsune and Stiles is alive. He is alive right? You wouldn't keep that from me."

"They're both alive," Kira reassured, squeezing lightly, "I don't think they are in Eichen," she looked around the room for confirmation.

"No," Scott whispered, "He's not."

"He's probably at ho-" Lydia began.

"You didn't invite him." All eyes snapped to Dany.

"They were both informed," Lydia said, "you can't blame us for them not showing up."

"Informed and invited are two very different things," Peter mused from his corner.

Scott flashed his eyes.

Peter snorted.

"Scott," Allison interrupted, "Yes or no, was Stiles invited?"

The scowl on the boy's face melted, and he seemed to deflate.

"No," he whispered.

"Malia?"

"No."

"Why?" Allison asked. She sagged, all her anger draining out of her. She was disappointed, she was hurt for her friends that deserved to be there with them.

"It doesn't matter," Lydia said, visibly drawing herself together.

"Doesn't matter?" Allison repeated. The words were sour in her mouth. "I risked my life for Stiles. We all risked our lives for him. I almost died. Aiden did die. And now it - now he doesn't matter?"

"We thought he needed time," Scott said. He sounded desperate, pleading that Allison understand.

"Yes, leave the person who was trapped in his mind alone with his mind," Peter said, "Because that's always worked out so well. Luck for us, instead of being left with the need for revenge, he will be controlled by his guilt." The man's face darkened, reminding them of the Peter they all wanted to forget. "You might as well have handed him a gun."

"He has nothing to be guilty for. That wasn't his fault." Scott argued.

"Hard to believe when there is blood on your hands." Peter pointed out, leaning against the wall with arms crossed over his chest. His face went blank again.

"He isn't alone," Lydia argued, "He has Malia."

"Yes, the girl who up until a few months ago lived as a coyote in the forest." Peter said.

"Malia is barely in touch with her human side, she doesn't know how to help him. At least not how he needs." Derek finished, shooting a look to his uncle. .

"He still has her," Lydia muttered.

"You're jealous," Danny announced, watching the redhead closely.

"No," she snarled.

"Then what?" Danny pushed, "A few months ago you were ready to die for him. And now he's back to being the scum on the bottom of your shoe."

"I'm scared," Lydia cracked, "The last time I saw Stiles I screamed Allison's name," She stared over Allison's left shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Tears filled her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall; Lydia would never let them fall.

"That wasn't Stile's fault. The Nogitsune stole his face, his body, his mind. He didn't ask to be possessed. It could have just as easily been me holding you hostage as you scream his name. I know for a fact he would die for any of us." Allison took a long breath, "I'm not saying you need to get over it, but Stiles doesn't know why you're avoiding him."

"Stiles always assumes the worst in himself." Danny muttered, "You might have well told him it was all his fault. By avoiding him, you just reinforced that idea."

Lydia and Scott both jumped to defend him, but were cut off by Allison, "Has anyone told him it wasn't his fault?" She asked the room.

There was a long pause before Ethan cleared his throat. "I tried," he said, "I'm pretty sure he heard me." His voice cracked and Danny took his hand. "Malia wouldn't let me in. I think she thought I was there to hurt him. I wasn't," he added when Scott growled. "I went to tell him that I'm not mad at him. And that I don't think Aiden would have been either. We could have left at any time, but we didn't. It was our choice. I would give almost anything to have Aiden back. But he got to die as one of the good guys and after everything we did..." He trailed off and no one pushed him to elaborate. He cleared his throat, "Malia wouldn't let me see him. And I wasn't going to start yelling everything through the door. But he was there, on the other side. I could hear him. I left before I could say too much. His heartbeat was getting too fast. I - I don't know if he was breathing."

"Panic Attack," Scott muttered, he sounded pained, "He started getting them after -"

"His mother died," Lydia finished.  
"It lasted so long. I thought he was going to pass out."

"He gets them a lot," Derek offered, earning looks from everyone but Peter. "He's pack," the man explained, Peter nodded in agreement. "The Alpha told us to leave him alone, but it doesn't mean I wasn't going to keep an eye on him."

Allison turned back to Scott, the wolf was collapsed on the couch, curled in on himself. "Scott-" Allison said.

His head jerked, his eyes went straight to Ethan. "Malia got him through it, right?" He asked, "If he passes out you're supposed to call the Sheriff right away. If he's out too long you need to call an ambulance or at least my mom. Does she know that? She should know that."

"Maybe if you went there you could help," Ethan said.

"I don't want to make it worse. Give him time away from this. Time to heal. Stiles said he needed time."

"And you believed him? Scott you know him better than that. You're supposed to be his best friend," said Danny.

"I am!"

"Then act like it."

Scott laughed, it was sad and bitter. Reminiscent of Stiles that hit a little too close to home for everyone in the room. "I'm a bad-" he stopped, cocking his head to the side. "Sheriff?" He said to no one in particular. As on cue a police cruiser came to a sharp stop outside, front lights illuminating through the windows.

The sheriff didn't bother turning the car off, and practically sprinted to the McCall's front door.

Scott met him there, already holding the door open.

"Is Stiles here?" The man demanded, barging passed the teen. He scanned the room, a combination of worry and determination that they had all seen on the boy in questions face many times before. "Have any of you seen Stiles tonight?"

Everyone shook their head, no one dare speak.

The Sheriff cursed under his breath, only worrying everyone more.

"Why?" Scott pressed, growing frantic, "What's going on?"

"Stiles is missing. Again."

Scott took a couple of slow breaths, squeezing the handle of the door he was still holding open to keep his hands from shaking. . "Maybe he went out for a drive?"

"We found the jeep," The Sheriff said, his voice was rough and detached. He was seperating himself from the facts. "The back tires are blown, the front windows are shattered. The passenger side door is missing and there's blood."

Allison gasped, crumbling into the closest chair. "No," she whispered.

"I didn't scream," Lydia said looking around the room frantically, "They have to be alive, I would know." She was tearing up again, maybe this time they would fall. Allison hoped not. She hoped it wouldn't get to that.

"I need one of the wolves to see if they can find a trail." The sheriff said, looking expectant around the room.

He wasn't short on volunteers.

* * *

Coulson didn't know what to expect when approaching Sheriff Stilinski. He was ready for a closed and detached, eager to sign over his son to them, just to get the kid out of his hair. He was ready for yelling and a gun in his face, demanding to they return his son. He brought Natasha to strike fear into the first one, and Steve to reason with the second. Clint showed up when they were leaving, already sitting in the pilot seat when Phil got there. At that point he didn't have the heart to tell the archer to leave.

They arrived at the police station midafternoon. It was shortly after lunch and well before dinner; less people should have been around, they were less likely to draw any unwanted attention. The woman at the front desk openly stared at them before demanding that they stop at the front desk before moving on. They ignored her, walking straight to the Sheriff's office.

The Sheriff held himself as a man who's fought hell and was ready to do it again. The bags were dark under his eyes and the beard growing in was dusted with silver. There was a coffee stain on his shirt and ink on his fingers. His cloths were unwrinkled and shirt tucked in. A man who looked as if he knew working to the bone did little to help the cause. He was 'a man of his own skin,' Phil noted. This man, whose gaze clearly said 'speak or get the fuck out' Phil could respect.

As they left, forms signed and tucked under his arm, Phil was not disappointed. He smiled as Clint pulled out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding the green bike that dogged passed. A large SUV and a motorcycle followed after it. "To be a fly on that wall," Phil muttered.

Clint snorted.

Natasha punched her partner in the shoulder, reaching from behind the back seat. "What?" The man squawked.

"Tony can probably hack us in," she suggested to Phil.

* * *

She was with Lydia when Parrish sent the string of mass texts to the group.

"Heavily armed people, no identifying logo."

"Talking to Sheriff alone"

"Mentioned Stiles before door closed"

Nobody texted back, already on their way. They all knew it, there was no need to talk about it.

Alison and Lydia arrived before everyone else. The wolves were out in the forest doing another search for their trail. The only clue they had was one of Stiles' shoes left in a clearing about a mile from the road. The girls were with Parrish when the suites left. Three men and a woman, all armed as Parrish had said, and looking various degrees of dangerous.

They left without a word, pulling out at the same time the others pulled in. Scott was at the lead, heading straight to the Sheriff's office with a level of determination that Allison wished he showed before Stiles went missing.  
The sheriff didn't say anything, ushering Scott back out of his office and into a conference room. Everyone followed. Alison was surprised when her father showed up with Peter in tow.

"Stiles has been found." The sheriff said, sinking into a chair at the head of the table. "Malia too."

"Are they?" Lydia said, she couldn't say it. "I didn't scream. They can't be..." The girl trailed off desperate to know if her instincts, the thing they have been depending on to know if they were alive, were wrong.

"They're alive. Malia is mostly healed and Stiles was out for a few days, but they say he is doing much better now." The Sheriff said. The room relaxed slightly, as if they all let out a breath.

"Where are they?" Scott demanded. "We have to-"

"I don't know," The Sheriff interrupted, sagging, defeated in his chair. "They wouldn't tell me."

"Are they bringing them back to Beacon?" Parrish asked.

The Sheriff shook his head, "The kids are safer staying with them." The room went silent, it hurt to be reminded that they were just kids, that the majority of them were technically still kids.

"What happened?" Derek asked after a moment of silence. "Why won't they be safe here?"

"Since when has it been safe here?" Allison snorted before she could catcher herself.

"They were taken by Hydra," The Sheriff said before Chris could say anything to her. "Apparently the Nogitsune caught their attention."

"The terrorist group?" Parrish asked, "From World War II."

The older man nodded. "They went after Stiles. Malia was in the way so they took her too. Hydra had them for a week."

"How did they escape?" Allison asked.

"SHIELD was running a mission and accidentally found them. It was a freak accident while they were taking down the base."

"SHIELD?" Scott asked, looking around the room confused.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Chris said, "They do deep cover work and were only rumors until the alien invasion. They back the Avengers."

"Stiles will be staying with them," The Sheriff said.

Scott's eyes flashed red, "How could you?"

John slammed his hands on the table, causing Scott to flinch back and his eyes turn back to normal. "I did what was best for my son."

"He needs to be home with his family and friends." Scott argued.

"Because that went so well the last time?" Peter drawled.

"We had our chance, Scott," the Sheriff said, "He wasn't getting better. I didn't know where to start. I still don't. They don't cover demon possession in the academy or any parenting books. The closest thing I can think of is r-" he chokes back tears, "rape." The room fell deathly silent as the Sheriff scrubbed his face. 'But even that doesn't seem to come close enough. I could barely look at him. He was so broken and I had no idea what to do. I was failing my kid. But SHILED offered to help. They have specialists who've dealt with brainwashing and mind control. They can help in ways I never could."

"So you handed him off?" Scott growled, "Abandoned -"

"I would rather die than deny my son the help he needs. I'm letting anyone's pride getting in the way of that."

"But you're leaving him with complete strangers!" Scott yelled.

"Those strangers have shown more loyalty to Stiles in the last few months than anyone else in this room, myself included." The Sheriff drew in a ragged breath, calming himself down. "Ultimately it will be their choice. If Stiles and Malia want to return to Beacon Hills once Stiles is released from medical, then SHIELD won't force them to stay. I won't force them home, and I want them to have to option to stay."

"How do you know if they actually have them?" Derek asked.

"I don't, at least not for sure. But they gave me this," he pulled a sleek Stark Phone from his pocket. "When Stiles is ready, he will call."

"Why did they give you a new phone?" Danny asked from the back of the room.

"They want to keep the line private and secure," The Sheriff fiddled with the phone in his hands, "They were pretty clear that none of you should contact them until they were ready."

The room blew up with sound, as everyone started arguing at once.

Allison stopped herself, instead she watched the Sheriff. He held the phone carefully in his hands is if it was glass. She was about the yell, tell everyone to quiet down when Danny whistled.

"Did they tell you why?" He asked. Scott moved to interrupt, but flinched back in surprise when Danny glared at him.

The man nodded, "So he doesn't feel guilty for staying with them."  
"So we're never allowed to talk to him again?" Scott blurted.

"No," Lydia said before anyone else could speak. "Scott, the last two years has been Stiles dropping everything to save one of us. He slept in the hospital lobby when I first started changing and everyone, you especially, knows how much he hates being there. He willingly faces off with your father so you don't have too and he openly dislikes Stiles to the point of hatred. If these people can help him and one of us says something about him coming home, he would. You complain about how hard math has been? He'll come back to help tutor you. If I mention something about having to carry bags I know he would come running to be there the next time I went shopping. He's done it before. He might not be in love with me anymore but I know I'm still on his list."

"I get it." Scott mumbled, "I just need to apologize."

"Yes, you need to apologize. You need to not feel guilty anymore" Peter spat.

"No," Scott hissed, "That's not what I meant."

"Oh?" Peter raised an eyebrow, "Because from what I hear you only need Stiles to forgive you."

"I need him to know that I'm sorry and that I'm a horrible friend." The young alpha argued.

"And that's why you're not allowed to talk to him," Peter strolled forward from where he was just perched on a table in the back. Using one hand he leaned forwards on the conference table, and pointed at Scott with the other. Scott flashed his eyes, but the older man ignored it. "Figure out what you want to say before you talk to him."

"Why do you care?" Alison blurted. She fought the need to blush when the man turned his gaze to her.

He stared for a second, studying her, before straightening and brushing at his cloths. "Because, as Miss Martin said before, we all would be dead a long time ago without him. He's been my favorite since the beginning and I refuse to find another."

"If Stiles and Malia decide to stay with SHIELD, they will set up an email or something where you can send either of them a messages." Everyone but Allison turned their attention back to the Sheriff. Instead she watched Peter melt back to the edge of the group. The Sheriff kept talking, "But no guarantee the messages will get to them. SHIELD said that all letters will be check beforehand."

"They'll read his mail?" Lydia asked.

"They said a computer will scan for it keywords. I didn't ask for details."  
"Do you know when we will be able to write him?" Scott asked, he looked at the man with bright eyes.

The Sheriff shook his head.

"Hopefully soon," Allison said to no one in particular as she glanced around the room. She was glad that Stiles and Malia were saved. A dark part of her mind wanted to know what exactly happened while they were kidnapped. The rest of her wanted to throw-up just thinking about it. She hopped she got the chance to see them again. She was already planning her letter, hopefully Stiles will get the chance to read it.

* * *

 _AUTHORS NOTE: I have reasoning on why everyone acted as they did, and I hope people get it without thinking they are too out of character. Scott's reasoning was hardest for me to get into words and for it to seem normal. That's kind of why he is emotional. His wolf has him on edge and his rock, the thing that always kept him calm (as a bro) is gone and he doesn't know how to handle it. Stiles has always been Scott's rock, life suddenly changed and one of the few things that supported him his WHOLE life is gone? He isn't going to respond maturely as you would hope or as Stiles would need. Again, feel free to message me with questions or comments about all that._

 _I plan to make this a story, like a full blown story. But I'm not 100 percent sure of the plot. That I'm still working on. If for some reason I don't return, then at least these questions are answered._

 _Depending on how the Stiles and Avengers side of the story goes, I might write a few more of the of the Beacon Hills moments. Just occasionally jump back to them, maybe use the letters mentioned above for that. Thoughts?_

 _As of right now, I am going to avoid romantic relationships. I have my reasons and I am more than happy to share them with everyone, but I doubt that you all want me to blabber on for ever. Let's just say that, though there are more details to my reasoning, Stiles (in my mind) isn't in a place for a romantic relationship with anyone. with that being said, this fic is going to have ALL of the family feels between people._

 _If you have any ideas as to how the plot should progress, please share! Or if you have requests, or comments or concerns, feel free to comment here or PM me! I'm really bad at responding, but I try!_


	3. Ehwaz, Secret TVs, and Paperwork

_Authors Notes:_

 _This chapter should have been out sooner. But then Tony happened. That small bit in the middle wasn't supposed to happen, but here we are. You might have waited, but at least you got more?_

 _I love loud and bold Thor, and he will make an appearance. But at the same time, I really wanted big brother Thor. He had years with Loki, being a big brother for the curious little brother. I think some part of Thor would be happy to tell his story, especially if someone is truly interested. Not because they want to write a book or to upset the world's opinion of Gods and religion. No, this child, because everyone is a child to Thor, this child is purely interested and curious. It seems to draw Stiles out of his shell. Thor is going tell all the stories, sadly we aren't going to hear most, if any, of the stories._

 _There are more notes but they are going to be at the end of the chapter. For now, Read on!_

* * *

Thor was the first one to visit, arriving with a duffle bag over his shoulder. Dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a white shirt, he seemed less intimidating than the hazy memory Stiles had of the New York invasion a year ago. Back then, he was more worried about the lizard creature running around Beacon Hills than the ones falling from the giant hole in the sky on the other side of the country.

"I brought you clothes," Thor greeted, "I believe the pants are from the Man of Iron and the shirt is from the Hawk. Jarvis provided the undergarments. He insisted you would want them fresh."

Stiles looked between Thor, Malia, the bag, then back to Thor. "Thanks," he said.

Thor placed the bag on the end of his bed, as Stiles struggled to free himself from the various machines currently attached to his arm. The catheter was removed the day before much to his relief. It was part of the deal he made with his nurse, the catheter was removed but the heart monitor and IV had to remain without complaint. The struggle, he learned, was trying to detach himself from everything. The IV port made it impossible to bend his right arm, and his body was still too store to twist across his body and turn off the machine with his left. But, Stiles is nothing, if not creative.

Thor beamed, "You are very welcome young one." He turned his sites to Malia, "There are cloths for you as well," he said, "Lady Natasha packed it for me, I'm not sure what is all there, but she assured me that it will be everything you may need."

Malia nodded in thanks, reaching across Stiles pressing all the correct buttons and carefully dragging him out of the bed.

Stiles squeaked, then slapped a hand over his mouth.

Malia stopped mid stride to look at him, lips quirking up.

Thor cleared his throat, startling the two, "Would you like me to leave, so you may change?" The god asked. He clearly wanted them to say no. His expression, though it seemed unintentional, was a little too similar to Scott's puppy dog eyes for Stiles' liking.

"No, we'll change in the bathroom," Stiles said.

"Stiles made a noise," Malia added, as if that would explain everything.

Thor brightened, "I shall wait here for your return."

The teens scurried to the attached bathroom before he could say more. They changed in silence. Malia had never been shy about her body. Stiles was, but after everything they've been through together, changing in front of Malia wasn't all that new. Not like she hasn't seen it before, after everything it didn't really matter.

Thor was sitting next to the bed, as he promised. "Tell me," he began, as they settled into bed. "Are you two bound?"

"Yes," Malia said. At the same time Stiles stammered out a, "What? No."

"Yes," Malia said again, glaring at Stiles for a moment.

"No," Stiles frowned back. "No," he pointed at Thor. "No," he turned to her again, "Malia, we broke up."

Panic bubbled in his chest, and his lungs grew tight. "You didn't explain enough" a voice in his head whispered.

"Maybe you dreamed the entire thing?" A second said.

"You almost got her killed because you were selfish." A third voice, the same one that told him to push her way. "You let her stay. You let her stay close and you only caused her pain."

"Stiles!" A voice broke through the others. Stiles blinked back the tears, trying desperately to clear the fog from his vision. "Stiles." There was pain in his right arm. Five pricks where something dug into his skin.

Malia.

"She shouldn't be here," The voice said.

Something knocked him back, back to reality and back on his bed.

Malia was there, one hand wrapped around his arm, claws extended but not cutting through his skin. The other was raised, ready for another slap.

Thor was closer now, on the edge of his chair. His knees pressed against the frame of the hospital bed.

A nurse was at the door. She seemed unfazed by the half shifted Malia. Then again, she seemed unfazed by anything they did or said.

"I'm fine," Stiles croaked, first to Malia, and then a second time to the nurse.

The nurse seemed skeptical, and studied him for a few seconds. "Put your monitor and IV back on." She said at least, disappearing back to the nurse's station.

"Stiles?" Malia whined, still half shifted. She tried to get closer. He tried to push her away, but she was too strong. "You're my human."

"I believe I may have caused some confusion," Thor interrupted. Both teens jumped, having forgotten he was there. The god smiled gently, holding out the forgotten medical lines. "There is no direct translation in your language. Centuries ago it was referred to as Ehwaz, two horses. It represents a partnership between two, one of trust, loyalty, instincts, and love. Bound does not mean you are together romantically, though it can be. It is where two are simply connected through the soul. It is common, in supernatural creatures to help them stay grounded."

"Stiles," Malia said, forcing him to make eye contact, "You are my human."

"Ehwaz," Stiles said after a few seconds of staring at Malia, "It sounds Scandinavian." He clutched his hands together, trying to stop the tremors.

Thor let out a booming laugh, sliding back into this chair, significantly more relaxed than minutes ago. "Ey, it is an old Norse rune adopted by your world during one of my first visits."

There was a spark in the boy's eyes, one of curiosity. It made Thor smile. "Would you like me to tell you the tale?" he asked, Thor was never one to miss an opportunity to tell one of his stories.

A smile broke out on Stiles' face, but disappeared just as fast. "I don't want to keep you," he muttered, settling himself on his pillows and avoiding eye contact.

"I would be honored to share my tales with you," the god placed a gentle hand on the boy's knee. "It is rare for me to find one who has interest."

Stiles' mouth dropped open, "how? I mean... Why... What?" He flailed a hand, almost smacking Malia in the face. She seemed unfazed, just curling up at his side and out of range. "How could people pass up the opportunity? Think of all the history and information they could learn."

* * *

They were left alone for the next few days. Stiles was finally spending more hours awake than asleep. They - meaning Stiles followed a few hours later my Malia - realized that they had a little problem. The problem was that Stiles had a lot of chemicals pumped into him in the last few weeks from Hydra and SHIELD, and none of them were his Adderall prescription.

His body buzzed, his eyes darted around the room. His heart monitor kept beeping.

 **Beeping.**

 **And Beeping.**

There were buttons on the machine. A few are red and some green. A small yellow button flashed slow blinks. He should press it.

 **Press the button.**

 **Press the button.**

Someone grabbed his wrist, the fingers were large and wrinkled. It was one of the nurses', Pamela, Phillis, Margaret. Stiles didn't remember. She didn't wear a name tag. She was always around, glaring at him when the machines drew his attention, or if tried to get out of bed. The nurses station was down the hall, how would she even know? She was a ninja or something. Which made sense seeing as she worked with SHIELD.

"Don't touch the machines,' she hissed. Malia growled from beside him, but the nurse didn't spare her a glance. She kept talking, but Stiles was already gone, eyeing the stethoscope around the woman's neck.

 **Take it.**

The nurse grabbed his other hand before he could grab it. "You need to keep your hands to yourself."

"You need to give me my Adderall." Stiles grumbled, "I have ADHD, I am trying as best I can."

"You don't need it," the woman stated, "just control yourself."

"How are you a nurse?" Stiles blurted before he could catch himself.

The woman's face turned a deep red, but the door opened before she could say anything. "Did I interrupt something?" Tony Stark asked, looking up from a tablet in his hands, stopping mid-step.

"No," The nurse snapped, releasing Stiles and scurrying out of the room.

They all watched her leave. Tony waited until she disappeared down the hall before turning to the two teens and raising an eyebrow.

"I have ADHD and nurse what's-her-name doesn't believe me." Stiles grumbled. His fingers itched. She was gone, that means he can press any of the buttons. "I haven't been on my meds in a really long time."

"Here," Tony said, startling Stiles. He didn't realize his attention was drifting. The man held out a Tablet, the one he was working on only seconds earlier.

Stiles frowned at the device and back up at the man holding it.

"You need this more than I do." Tony shook it at them. "Plus, I have a ton more."

"Are you sure?" Stiles accepted the device, holding it carefully.

"Kid, I wouldn't offer if I wasn't sure." Tony smirked. Stiles poked at the power button, sliding through the device with a surprising amount of ease. "Keep yourself distracted with this while I go harass someone to get your prescription."

Stiles nodded absently, already lost in the Stark Pad.

The genius smiled, but it fell when he noticed Malia watching him from the other end of the bed. "You should blink more."

Malia tilted her head to the side, squinting at Tony.

"Did you want me to get you one?" Tony offered, unnerved by the blank look the girl was giving him "I don't have one on me at the moment, but I can get one."

Malia shook her head, and crawled up the bed, forcing herself between Stiles and the security bars of the hospital bed.

"I apologize Mr. Stlinkski, but these files are restricted." Jarvis announced, startling everyone in the room. .

"J?" Stark asked, taking the device back and flicking at the screen, "Were you hacking SHIELD files?

Stiles looked at the genius with wide eyes, "oops?"

Tony laughed, "Kid, you and I are going to get along splendidly." The man messed with the device for a few seconds before handing it back. "There," he said, "You should have access with everything security level three and below."

"What?" Stiles asked, eyebrows knitted together.

"I would be a hypocrite to stop you, so I might as well help you out. Level three should last you the night and shouldn't reveal too much in ways of national security. At least not that you haven't already put together based on what's happened."

"I..." Stiles trailed.

"Just think of it as a gift from one person with ADHD to another." Tony shrugged, spinning on his heels, "Ask Jarvis if you need anything, he's the British voice you just heard. I'm going to go have a talk with someone about your meds." The man strolled out the door before the teens got a chance to say anything more.

"Okay," Stiles said to the room.

Malia took the device from his hands, frowning at the screen. "Jarvis?" she said to the screen.

"Yes, Miss?" the device asked.

"Do you have Netflix?"

"Of course Miss. What would you like to watch?"

"No," Stiles groaned, throwing himself back and flinging his arms dramatically.

Malia ignored him, "Fox and the Hound."

"You know he gave that to me," Stiles muttered staring up at the ceiling, listening to the classic Disney intro and it zooms out to an old-school Disney castle.

"It's my sister's favorite." Malia whispered, drawing the screen closer to her face. "I like it." Stiles placed a hand on her back, rubbing small circles. He couldn't argue, he's made her watch "A White Christmas" more than once, and way before it could be considered seasonally appropriate.

"If you would like, I can play the movie on the TV," Jarvis offered, pausing the movie as it listed off intro credits.

"There's a TV in the room?" Stiles asked. "Because I swear I didn't-" he cut himself off when a large patch of wall at the end of the bed went black then mirrored the paused movie on the Stark Pad. "We have been sitting here for the last four days and we've had a TV in here the whole time?" Stiles gasped.

Malia seemed less devastated. She placed the Stark Pad in Stiles' lap and crawled to sit cross-legged at the end of the bed.

"How could they not-"

Malia shushed him, not even turning around. "How do I make it play?" she asked.

"But Malia," Stiles whined, as the movie started and the lights dimmed.

Malia shushed him again, glaring over her shoulder..

Stiles mimicked zipping his mouth closed, and settled back into his pillows. At least he had the Stark Pad. "Someone should have told us." he muttered. He drew his legs back before Malia could pinch him, and smiled innocently when she shot him a look.

* * *

Coulson came around the next day, followed by a sheepish looking Captain America carrying a duffle bag on each arm. Phil didn't say anything, taking a seat in the chair Thor took up only days before and helped himself to the bedside table.

Steve hovered in the doorway, shuffling from foot to foot. Stiles glanced between the two men, confused. Malia took the Stark Tablet out of his hands and switched it over to some kind of timed clicking game.

"Have a seat?" Stiles offered, waving at one of the other empty chairs scattered around the room.

"Thanks," Steve smiled, grabbing the closest chair. "These are for you," he added, shrugging his shoulders, trying to gesture to the bags. "I don't really know what's in them, but Tony handed them to me when we left this morning."

"He gave me this," Coulson added, holding out an orange pill bottle, "We were able to get your prescription before Tony hacked into the files himself."

Stiles snatched the bottle from the older man. He fished a pill out, examined it for a second. "I'll get you some-"Steve started. Stiles popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry. "Never mind," Steve finished.

"Thanks," Stiles said, "The nurse wouldn't give me any, said I was going to pawn them off because it wasn't in my file. I told her it probably wouldn't be because until a few days ago the file probably didn't have my actual first name. But then again, this is a big security spy organization. I wouldn't be surprised if it did. But then she should have known I had ADHD. But instead she uses all her skills to keep me from having any fun. I just wanted to press the buttons, but that is a no-no. And did you know there was a TV in this room? There was a TV the whole time. That's the kind of sneaky technology I was expecting from you guys, but like, why in here? People are drugged, you should make it obvious. How was I supposed to know? Like how we should know what's in those bags. You didn't check? You should have checked. I think the most important question, and one we are probably all thinking is, 'What's in the bags?'" Stiles finished, drawing in a long breath and staring Steve down.

The man stared back with wide eyes, having lost track of the long winded rant.

"We're not sure," Phil offered, flipping through some files that Stiles doesn't remember seeing him bring in. "Steve announced that when we first got here," the man's tone was light, teasing, not angry.

Stiles rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but can we find out? Because obviously no one knows, but we should know, so let's find out, so we can all be in the know."

"Paperwork first," Phil shuffled the last few papers into a pile, placing it next to the first three.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, and Malia tossed the Stark device to the end of the bed. It bounced lightly and landed at their feet. "It's dead," she announced, scowling at the devices black screen.

"There might be a charger in one of the bags," Stiles offered, perking up, "We should open them and find out."

"Paper work then bags," Phil said, leveling the teens with a stern glare.

Stiles flopped back, waving his arms dramatically. "Fine," he said. He was still hunched back, arms resting against the wall and backboard of the bed while still in the air. "I'm guessing they are our discharge papers?" There was a beat, a moment where the boy's face darkened before he shrunk back in on himself, curling his limbs back and sitting up straighter. He became less bright than the hyperactive boy they saw seconds ago. "Because I can't stay here much longer, I don't know how my dad is going to pay for this. I don't think that super-secret spy medical facilities is covered by our insurance. I probably should have said something sooner instead of racking up the bills, but I kept forgetting. It gets so hard to keep a train of thought sometimes, especially without my Adderall prescription. Where did you get this filled? Our insurance is picky about that kind of thing and out of pocket Adderall costs a lot." Stiles didn't realize was staring at the pill bottle in his hand until Malia took it from him. "Sorry," he said, blinking at Phil and then Steve. "So, papers?"

Phil nodded, "I guess discharge papers are a good of place to start as any. I do have them with me, but before you sign them, I have a proposition for you. Based what you have shared with us and what we have been able to learn from Hydra, it would be best for you to remain under SHIELD protection."

"I can't afford that," Stiles interrupted.

Phil held up a hand, stopping Stiles from continuing, "A select few have made it clear to me and my superiors that you two should be staying with them. And as much as I hate boosting Stark's ego, the tower is probably the safest place."

"Stark?" Stiles whispered, "As in Tony Stark?"

The older man nodded, "We would like to put you under protection at Stark Tower-"

"Avenger's Tower," Steve interrupted.

Phil rolled his eyes, "Avenger's Tower," he corrected, "until we are certain you are no longer in any danger."

"What?" Stiles asked, looking slightly dazed.

Malia smiled, seeming to buzz with energy, "When do we leave?" Stiles knew she was getting restless from being confined to the room, he was took.

Stiles flailed, "No, I mean, my dad would never agree to that." He frowned apologetically when Malia let out a small whine.

"But we would be safer," Malia argued, her facing darkening and smile melting to a frown, "We could get away from Beacon."

"Malia," Stiles said, the two men could hear the warning in his voice.

"You're doing better now," The woman continued, ignoring the look Stiles was giving her, "Stiles, you laughed."

Something broke in the other teen, causing him to crumble slightly. "I can't leave my dad," He said, turning back to Phil. "I should've contacted him sooner. He has a bad heart and I can't put him under any more stress. The nurse lady said that he was has been notified but due to this being a SHIELD facility, he wasn't able to actually come. I should - we should - probably get home."

Phil nodded in agreement, "Your father was contacted. I along with a few agents and the Captain here flew in to Beacon Hills to talk to him."

Both Malia and Stiles perked up.

"He was searching high and low for you two, had been going at it for a while from what I could tell. He was ready to fight for you," Phil said, earning a shy smile from Stiles. "I gave him the basics of what happened, though he seemed more concerned with your safety then the specifics. We explained the danger that both of you are still in, and though he was reluctant, he has given is approval for you to stay under SHIELD protection." He held out one of the stacks of papers, holding the paper work signed by the Sheriff. "Though he made it very clear that it was up to you." Stiles snatched the papers from Phil, flipping through them. "He want's what is best for you, and that includes you making your own choices."

"I believe his exact words were, I want my son to be safe and healthy. And I will do whatever it takes." Steve added.

Stiles snorted, eyes glossed over as he flipped to the next page, "That sounds like him," he whispered.

"We gave your father a phone that you can contact if you want to talk to him before you make any choices. It's a secure line set up by Mr. Stark, so you don't have to worry about Hydra or anyone else hacking into it." Phil explained.

"That's a lot of security for just me," Stiles frowned at both men. "I don't need all that, I mean, Hydra didn't find anything. There wasn't anything to find. Why would they come looking for me? The Avengers saved me, and thanks for that by the way, but isn't this all a bit much? You're the Avengers, and I'm just me."

"From our experience, Hydra is persistent and determined. We would rather take the precautions then risk your life." Coulson said. "We still don't know the extent of Hydra's interest in you, Mr. Stilinski." The man took a deep breath, looking between the teens, "I'll be honest with you both, there's no reason to leave you in the dark. From my calculations, Hydra should have killed you both a week before we even arrived."

"Coulson," Steve growled, but none of them paid him attention.

"Hydra was keeping you for something," Phil continued, "We don't know what and we don't know why, but until we figure it out, you would be safest under SHIELD protection."

Stiles let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair, "Can I call my dad first?" he asked.

Coulson smiled, it was small but reassuring, "of course."

* * *

 _AUTHORS NOTES: I have two ideas of how this story can progress. I've laid the groundwork for both with this chapter, but from here it can go two ways. I've started writing a bit of both, so neither can be considered further along than the other. All that being said, I'm asking your opinions but at the same time I'm going to try and not give too much away._

 _ **Option A:**_  
 _Stiles and Malia are taken again by Hydra. This option involves a few gaps in time and at least one chapter focused on Bucky. There will be significantly less family feels between Stiles &Malia and the Avengers, and Stiles&Malia and Beacon Hills Pack. It'll probably be darker and there is a chance of an unhappy outcome. Less Beacon HIlls over all, as they aren't as big in this option. Also there will at least be one chapter where Stiles&Malia aren't even there._

 _ **Option B:**_  
 _Bucky now, not later. In this one, Stiles and Malia are not taken by Hydra, though they will make an appearance. This version will have ALL the feels... or at least more than Option A. Bucky is a big part of both stories, because that is how things are going to be playing out. Clint is a big part of this story, and less so in Option A. More of Beacon Hills gang in this option._

 _Option A or Option B?_  
 _(Also, if you can, tell me why.)_  
 _Or if you have questions or comments on either, let me know!_  
 _Also, if you want more about my options, or even want to be my sounding board, please let me know! I'm still struggling with getting these characters down, and I'm worried that they are all wrong._

 _Now that I'm finally done with school for the year, I will be able to actually respond to reviews and comments! I know I still haven't done it from the last chapter, and I hope to respond to the old ones in the next few days. Unless you give me another one, then I will just write back to you_

 _Keep leaving me comments, Koudos and Love!_  
 _Seriously, they long comments usually make my day (sometimes my week) and inspire me to keep writing!_  
 _Thank you for all your support!_


	4. Preparedness plans and Foot-in-Mouth

_Not Beta-read._

 _Someone somewhere offered to be my Beta and for the life of me I can't find out who or where that offer is. So I'm opening it up to anyone who is looking to help. I'm willing to have more than one person, because I know that you can't have too many people checking over your work. Before anyone offers just know that I work randomly, and will probably throw stuff at you randomly._

* * *

Coulson held out a Stark phone and explained that it was his to keep. It was more secure than his old phone, which was probably still locked away in evidence back in Beacon Hills. Stiles scurried to the bathroom, phone clutched tight in his hand. Malia, Coulson and Captain America – "Call me Steve" – waited around the hospital bed. Stiles didn't bother locking the door, he knew between the were-coyote, super soldier and Coulson, there wasn't really a point. They could easily break in and the nurse would probably blame him for the mess. She really didn't like him sense the whole Adderall incident.

He picked the only contact, John Stilinski. It rang three times before someone answered, "-iles" his father said, sounding half asleep.

"Hi dad," Stiles muttered, smiling to himself.

"Stiles," John sighed, sounding just as relieved as Stiles felt.

"Tell me something only my dad would know," Stiles demanded before he could catch himself.

A soft laugh echoed through the phone, "Like what?"

"I don't know. You turned down my idea for code phrases."

"Kid, you were twelve and just watched 'Attack of the Body Snatcher'. Which I told you not to do by the way. All it did was freak you and Scott out and cause you two to create an Alien Preparedness Plan."

"Dad, sense then we found out that aliens and werewolves exist." Stiles pointed out, he felt his chest loosen, a weight lifting. He missed this. He missed his dad. The banter was easy between them, it always had been.

"Well Kid, when you get back, we can figure one out."

There was a pause between them. Stiles took a deep breath, "Dad, do you want me to come home?"

"No – Yes – I want you to get better." There was a pregnant pause followed by a long sigh. "The last few years have been tough. You made choices, ones that I – that I get. I might not like them, but I understand. Ever sense your mom-"

"Dad."

"Stiles let me finish. Ever sense Claudia passed away, you and I have been a team."

"We still are." Stiles choked out. His chest hurt again, this time an old hurt from memories of his mom.

"I know Kiddo. But right now I want- I need you to focus on Stiles and not on Team Stliniski. You grew up too fast, and looking back it kills me how much time I missed stuck at the bottom of the whisky bottle." His father grew rough.

Stiles' throat went dry. Neither of the Stilinski men addressed the months John spent drinking after his wife's death. Where talk of Claudia was avoided, the months after was blacked out. It was a time that John barely remembered and Stiles pretended he couldn't. Remembering Claudia might have hurt, but most of the memories were happy.

"You took up cooking, the cleaning, everything. You stepped up when I couldn't and you've been there ever sense. But now, I need you to take care of yourself. The guys from SHIELD said they had specialists who could help you. The N-"

Stiles let out a choking noise.

"-thing hurt you, and I don't know how to help. I would give anything to help you. But I'm not going to force you to stay. If you want to come back to Beacon Hills I'll be here with open arms, but don't come back for me. Put yourself first, not me, not Scott, but you."

There was another long pause.

"Then when you finally figure something out, throw it away and do whatever Malia says." John's voice was light and teasing, cutting some of the tension between them.

Stiles snorted, earning a small laugh from his father, "She thinks we should stay," he admitted.

"I'm glad she's looking out for you."

Stiles smiled, bowing his head, hiding from the empty room and more importantly his reflection above the sink. "Me too. I'm apparently her human,"

"I though you broke up…" John trailed off, Stiles could hear the question.

"It's platonic. Thor called it Ehwaz."

"Thor?"

"Son of Odeon, god of thunder. Apparently no one appreciates his stories."

"Now that, I find hard to believe. Why would you turn down the opportunity?"

"That's what I said!" Stiles cried.

There was another moment of silence, far more reassuring than the ones before.

"I'm-" Stiles swallowed, "I'm going to stay. At least see what they have to offer."

"I'm proud of you, son. I'll be here whenever you need me; I'm a phone call away. You can come home whenever you want."

Stiles cleared his throat, "I should probably be getting back out there, Malia's probably getting worried."

"I'm surprised she hadn't broken in." John quipped.

Both Stilinski men knew she was listening to their conversation regardless of her not being in the actual room. "I love you," Stiles whispered, scrubbing at his face, fighting back tears.

"I love you too, son."

Stiles hung up, wrapping his arms around his chest. He let out a shaky breath, drawing himself together. He stood up, avoiding himself in the mirror and left the bathroom. He found Stiles waiting for him, reading through the paperwork that Coulson left behind. Her lips moved while she read, sounding out the words.

"Uuhh, Malia," Stiles drawled. She glanced up then went back to reading. "Where did they go?" he asked, flailing his arms around at the empty room.

"What does this mean?" She asked instead. She held out the papers, pointing at the word in question.

"Bona fide" Stiles read pulling the contract from her hands. " It's Latin I think. It means in good faith. This part is pretty much saying that they are putting faith in my dad not telling anyone who might be bad where we are."

Malia frowned snatching everything back from him, "why not just say that?"

"Not formal enough," Stiles offered.

Malia huffed.

"What happened to Coulson and the Captain?" Stiles asked again.

"They left."

"Yes, that I noticed," Stiles rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Malia punched him in the shoulder. "They said they'll be back tomorrow for the stuff." She waved around some of the papers in her hands. "I think Captain America could hear you. He got all uncomfortable and red before leaving. Coulson left after, but I wasn't really paying attention."

"Busy reading?" Stiles smirked.

"Your dad wants you to listen to me." Malia beamed.

Stiles couldn't help but smile back, she was so proud of herself. He wasn't going to take that away. "I always listen to you," Stiles pointed out, "I'm listening right now."

Malia punched him in the shoulder and dragged him into bed. "Read this to me," she demanded. "Then sign it."

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am."

* * *

They woke up the next day and the paperwork was gone and a note was left in its place. They would be leaving the day after tomorrow at 1300 hours. It was unsigned. Below that was a 'p.s.' scrawled in a messier and loopy writing telling them they brought a two chargers and a second stark pad, both charging in the corner.

"Both?" Stiles echoed.

"This one's mine, Malia announced, holding up a Stark pad in each hand. She waved around the blue one on her right.

"No fair, how come you get first pick?" Stiles grumbled.

"It has my name on it," She flipped it around, showing her named carved into the back.

"Oohh…"

* * *

Malia and Stiles were reading to go at 12:45 with everything provided by the Avengers packed away into the bags brought in by Captain America. The bed was made, chairs moved back into what Stiles hopped was close to their original places. He was tempted to look into another room and check, but Malia seemed to know what he was thinking and dragged him to sit down. They sat there with Maila's tablet between them until there was a knock at the door.

Ironman, Black Widow, and Hawkeye showed up when they were released. It was the first time Stiles or Malia saw them in anything close to their uniforms, that wasn't from the internet.

Tony had the Ironman gauntlet on and glowing, and a suit worth more than Stiles' whole wardrobe. Natasha was in full Black Widow get-up. Her hair pulled back and guns strapped to her thighs. Hawkeye was in, what looked like, combat boots and dark pants, a plain white shirt with a bow in hand and quiver on his back. There was a Band-Aid on his cheek and two of his fingers were tapped together. Stiles realized that he might not actually know what Hawkeye for a uniform, because that didn't seem to protect much. Other than the archer's minor injuries, they seemed unharmed.

"You ready to go?" Clint asked in way of a greeting.

"You're the Avengers," Stiles answered. There was a pause as the heroes exchanged glances.

"Yes," Natasha said. At the same time Tony asked, "Are you still concussed? Is this some kind of delayed amnesia?"

"No," Stiles said, glancing at Malia who seemed just as concerned and confused as the three heroes. "Just, you're you," he gestured at them, they kept staring. Stiles took a second, letting his arms drop. Something flashed across his face, before falling neutral, then shaking his head. "Let's go," he said, at last. No one pointed out his smile was fake. Malia tucked her arm into his, each teen taking a bag for themselves.

Stiles gestured for the team to lead the way. They complied.

* * *

Tony took the lead, weaving through the halls as if it were second nature. Based on what Stiles was reading a few days earlier, Tony was the one to design the ship. The report was short, blocking out any specifics or detentions for what Stiles assumed was security reasons. It mentioned that they previous helicarrier, and subsequent damages from a previous attack. Any info was blacked out and for all of Stiles' searching, nothing came up.

Hawkeye and Black Widow took either side of the teens. Any person they came across dove out of the way. Various agents glared as they passed, some flinched, and others looked confused and worried. It took Stiles a while to realize that most of the anger wasn't directed towards him, but Clint, on his right.

He tried looking up more about the Avengers while stuck in medical. There was a brief description of each member, except for the two SHILED agents. The only thing provided was their code names and what the paperwork claimed was their actual names, everything else was locked. The access Tony gave him didn't seem to allow access. According to what Stiles could get out of Jarvis, anything more required level six security or above. Stiles didn't push it with the AI, but it did nothing to deter his curiosity. He wanted to know why Clint had the same broken look he saw in the mirror. It was one of the few things Stiles could remember clearly when he woke up in SHIELD medical. It didn't take much for Stiles to realize that something happened to Hawkeye, and that was the reason the Avengers had taken an interest in him.

Stark pointed out various details of the ship, ignoring all the lingering agents. Stiles missed most of it, and he was almost certain that Malia blocked him out. The billionaire either didn't notice or didn't care.

They arrived at the hangers, and Tony drew Stiles out of his thoughts with a flourish at one of the many ships. "Our ride," the man announced. "Ladies, gentleman and Hawk," Clint rolled his eyes and flipped him off. Some of the tension ebbed away from his shoulders in the process. "I give you the latest and greatest in Stark aerial technology."

"It's a ship?" Malia asked, interrupting the man. "Shouldn't it have wings?"

"They come out."

"Are you sure?" Malia seemed skeptical, eyeing the ship with mistrust.

"Just get on," Natasha stated. She didn't sound angry, just amused. Though her face gave nothing away.

* * *

They filed onto the ship, Tony grumbling on his way to the piolet seat. There was a silent exchange between him and Hawkeye before they got on resulting in an eye roll from the blond and quick satisfied smirk from Stark. His triumph was interrupted by a punch in the shoulder from the Black Widow. She and Hawkeye took seats along the wall, leaving Stiles and Malia to mirror them on the other side. An oddly comfortable silence settled between the four of them as the ship took off.

"Why were they mad at you?" Malia asked out of the blue, watching Clint closely.

Stiles felt guilty for being happy that he wasn't the one to stick his foot in his mouth. But then again, Malia probably wouldn't care even if she noticed.

Natasha hissed, face turning dark. Stiles and Clint just watched each other for a few seconds. Before Natasha could speak, Clint reached over and squeezed her arm. The red head stilled instantly, and after a moment she let out a long breath, anger fleeting.

No one offered and answer to the were-coyotes question, leaving them to fall back into silence, significantly tenser than before. Malia took the hint and didn't ask again, though she looked thoughtfully at the other duo's interaction.

Stiles wasn't sure how much time passed. He dozed off after a few minutes of watching his hands. He came back too when they landed with a shake. His breath caught as he panicked from the lack of time. Malia pushed in close, counting their fingers, whispering into his ears.

Stark burst from the piolet seat with a triumphed smirk. He faltered when he saw the teens, but powered on. "How was that for flying?" he asked.

"You would have to tell us," Clint interrupted the tension of the room, "Not like we can see anything from back here."

"Turbulence?" Stark shot back, "plus we have been over this bird brain, windows would weaken the ship."

Clint shrugged as if saying 'still," and let himself off the ship. Natasha followed with a halfhearted hidden smirk.

Stark turned his attention towards the teens, ignoring his teammate exit. "You kids ready to go?" he asked.

Malia nodded, dragging up a still shaken Stiles by the elbow. Stark didn't ask, but swooped in to grab both of the bags before the teens could do so themselves. "Follow me chickadees." Stark shot over his shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure baby coyotes are called whelps," Stiles pressed close to Malia for support, following after Stark. "Maybe pups."

"Potato, tomato."

* * *

 ** _Authors Notes:_**

 _As of right now I'm going with option B, but with some changes. It was the obvious winner, but as many people pointed out, that doesn't mean I have to completely give up on what I had planned for option A. Just a slight warning to you all, Bucky isn't going to be there RIGHT away, but interaction between him and Team Ehwaz (aka Malia and Stiles) will be much sooner compared to option A. But for maximum plot I have a bit of ground work to set up first. I'm thinking two chapters before everyone meets up, but we will have to wait and see. There is going to be 15 chapters if I follow my plot-out. I want to start updating sooner, but I've made the same promises before and I never follow through. But please know, I am going to try._

 _How is my character work? This story has been hard for me to write because I just don't know if I'm getting these characters correct. I want to do them justice. I know this concept can turn out pretty freaking amazing, but I don't want to mess it up. I'm not confident in my writing and these guys._


	5. Sleep is a LIE

_AUTHORS NOTES: Wouldn't it be cruel if this was an April fools joke? I mean, it's not but still, that would be so mean._

 _Life isn't nice and it isn't easy. I'm not going to make excuses, but it's fact. Things happen and then months pass - more months than you intend. Regardless, I'm sorry. I hope you all enjoy._

 _I'm still looking for a beta if anyone is interested._

 _I should probably look over this at least one more time before posting... oh well._

 _Who hear can guess what part wasn't originally part of my plan?_

 _Anyways, I hope you guys like it. Malia is a big part of this story. She is going to have her own little plot line, one I hope starts to show itself in this one. I'm going to make you like her, because I know there are some of you who don't. But this Malia, MY Malia deserves better. Or at least she deserves more then we saw in the show._

 _PLEASE LET ME KNOW HOW MY CHARACTERIZATION IS GOING! Who seems too OOC? Who is most accurate?br /_

 _Please let me know if you find any spelling or grammar issues._

* * *

Tony strolled from the ship and across the roof landing pad with a relaxed confidence. The kids, from what he assumed, were behind him. Malia tensed when they exited the ship. Her body was tight, claws digging into Stiles' arm. "Ma-"Stiles began only to have the girl to finch back, cupping her hands over her ears. Her eyes flashed and fangs grew. She let out a long whine that stopped Tony in his tracks.

"What's wrong with her?" The man asked, glancing between the teens with a raised eyebrow.

It wasn't until Malia to look at Stiles with pleading eyes. "Sensory overload," He realized.

Malia whined again.

Stiles grabbed her arm, tugging towards what he hoped was the elevator. Malia resisted only for a second, allowing him to pull her down the stairs and across the gravel rooftop. Tony jogged to keep up and then past them, leading through the sliding elevator doors. They closed with a quick whoosh and the elevator jolted to life. Malia relaxed almost instantly her arms dropping but claws still sharp and eyes bright. Tony mumbled something about metals and the doors, neither of them were paying attention. She pressed in close to Stiles, tucking into his side. Stiles kept them standing as the elevator came to a sharp stop. The door opened, not that either teen noticed.

Tony watched them curiously. "Jarvis, take us to eight." He said at last.

"Sir, if I may," A speaker above interrupted, "the team-"

"Doesn't matter." Tony waved a hand at the ceiling. The door slid closed in response, heading up. Tony herded them out once they stopped again. "So here's the deal chickadees," the man started, tossing the bags next to the door. "The floor is yours. Rooms are there and there," he pointed passed the open concept living room and connecting kitchen. "Bathrooms on both. Fridge has the basics, tell Jarvis if there's anything specific you need. And don't worry about the internet, Jarvis will connect you automatically."

"Floor?" Stiles parroted.

Tony powered on, "Cap is on the floor below you, Widow is above. The communal floor is on two. The top eighteen floors are private, everything below is part of the Stark industries. Feel free to go down, but don't leave the building without one of the team. Feel free to ask Jarvis if you have any questions or need anything. Gym is on three and my lab is four. Other things are other places, Jarvis can make you a map." Tony backed into the elevator. "Someone will be up to check on you two sometime tomorrow or just come down to the communal floor, someone is usually around."

"Floor?" Stiles said again.

Tony flashed a large smirk before the doors closed.

"We have a floor," Stiles muttered, "Why do we have a floor?"

Malia shrugged, elbowing Stiles in the side in the process. "Let's go."

* * *

Stiles wasn't sure what to expect when moving into the Stark – turned Avengers – Tower. At most two beds and an attached bathroom. To be fair he wasn't wrong, just it was on their own floor and included a kitchen larger than what Stiles had at home and two separate bedrooms.

Malia blatantly ignored the door with her name on it, choosing instead to follow Stiles into his.

It was floor to ceiling windows, taking up the entire of the opposite wall. The bed was to the right, neatly made in gray sheets and bigger than anything he had ever seen. There was a TV across from the bed, imbedded into the wall just like at the SHIELD medical bay. A small text box bounced around the screen telling them 'I AM A TELEVISION'.

Stiles fell face first into his bed, a few seconds liker Malia followed him down, curling into his side. "I was just asleep," stiles grumbled, voice muffled by the unfairly soft and oh so comfortable mattress. Malia grunted in response. They fell asleep in seconds.

* * *

Stiles jerked awake from a sharp poke to his side. He tried to roll away, but it only followed. He groaned, the room was dark, either night or the windows were blocked, it was hard to tell. Malia poked him in the side again, she lay with her eyes still closed, facing him. "Door," she grumbled, "you answer." She rolled over and went back to sleep.

Stiles hauled himself out of bed, trudging blindly to the bedroom door. He stumbled, blinking in surprise when he realized it wasn't his bedroom. He trudged out the door, down the hall – almost falling over the couch and nearly knocking over a lamp before finally reaching the front door. He frowned at it, trying to figure out why Malia thought someone was there.

"The Captain is on the other side," Jarvis offered, scaring Stiles enough to jump back and take out that lamp he barely save the first time.

Stiles let out a small "oh" looking at the pieces of ceramic around his feet.

The front door opened to a concerned looking Captain America. Stiles blinked at him then the mess on the floor.

A small roomba-like robot darted out from under the couch. It circled the mess, pulling in the smallest pieces of yellow ceramic. Stiles watched it work, wondering if he should help. Steve watched Stiles with a frown. The robot nudged the larger pieces and fallen cord under the side table it came from. It let out a couple beeps, sounding proud, before disappearing again. "Should I..." Stiles asked glancing at Steve.

"Don't worry Mr Stilinski, another will be here by tomorrow." Jarvis announced from somewhere above.

"Oh," Stiles mumbled, "That's good," he turned to Steve again, "What can I do for you Mr Captain America?" he asked.

"Just Steve is fine," The man blushed a light pink around the ears, " I just wanted to check on you two. We haven't heard anything from you since you arrived."

Stiles frowned, looking around for a clock. "How long has it been?" he asked. There was one on the microwave reading six something - the information completely useless when Stiles realized he had no idea when they actually arrived, let alone if it was AM or PM. The feeling of lost time wasn't a new. He was used to living life in bursts, lost between sleep and awake.

"Fifteen hours," supplied Jarvis.

"Oh, I guess - I guess we were tired? Stiles offered, "The hospital place wasn't very restful once they take you off the good meds. Counterproductive really."

Steve nodded in agreement, "I spend a lot of time in one as a kid. Buck-" his face contorted, it was too fast for Stiles to catch before settling in something unreadable. "Bucky always insisted I did better when in my own bed." His voice was fond, but his eyes far away.

Stiles knew who Bucky was. James Buchanan Barnes was Steve Rogers best friend and right hand during the war. He disappeared shortly before the Captain crashed and was assumed dead. There was something on the hero's face, guilt and determination that reminded Stiles of Scott. It gnawed at Stiles, making his chest hurt and mind itch. It was familiar for all the wrong reasons and he wanted to know why. He pushed it away, everything was still too foggy from sleep, it wasn't his problem anyways. He shuffled his feet, "Did you want to check on Melia?" he offered.

Steve jerked back to himself, smiling a paparazzi ready smile. It showed too much teeth and didn't reach his eyes. "No, it's fine. But I'd - the team that is - wanted to invite you both down to eat. Something casual tonight, around five."

Stiles glanced back at the clock. It was a little after seven. "You came to wake up two teenagers at six in the morning?" he asked.

Steve looked sheepish and opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by laughter. "It's all good, dude." Stiles said before the man could get anything out, "To be honest, I'm surprised I was asleep for so long." He added, more to himself then Steve. "Nightmares." He explained when he caught Steve's frown of confusion, only to have it turn to concern.

"What time is Dinner?" Stiles interrupted again.

"Five - but Stiles-" Steve kept frowning.

Stiles shook his head, "No," he said, turning sharply on his heels and heading back to bed. He couldn't handle a concerned Super Soldier with Scott-like puppy-dog-eyes. He got actually sleep, his brain was fuzzy in ways he wasn't used to, at least not anymore. It wasn't a drugged haze like in medical or the confusion that gripped his mind after a nightmare. It felt normal. It was weird. "We'll see you on five." Stiles answered.

"On two at five," Steve called.

Stiles waved over his shoulder, closing the door behind him. He stumbled into bed, curling up under the sheets. Malia pressed back until Stiles' forehead rested against her shoulder blades. There was a few seconds of silence then, "Oh my god. I was just rude to a freaking American hero".

Malia groaned and pressing back harder.

* * *

The Sheriff contacts everyone on a Tuesday with a mass text.

 _Talked to Stiles. They're staying."_

He gets messages the rest of the day, everyone asking questions. John ignored them all, focusing on work. He went to the dinner down the street for lunch. Parish followed at his heels, interrupting his order of fries and a burger by insisting the older man get a salad. It threw John off, leaves him quiet long enough for Parish to order himself and the waitress to leave. Jordan looks hesitant now, the confidence gone. There was a line - they both saw it. John took a deep breath and centered himself again. There was a beat of silence before they made eye contact, "I'm getting extra dressing," he said at last.

The Sheriff sends out a second mass text the next morning.

 _"chickadee1and2 "_

* * *

The next time Stiles wakes up, hands are wrapped tightly around his neck. The lights were too bright and everything muffled as if underwater. Something or someone was pulling at him, he couldn't move his arms - ropes, no, hands. He stared back with that smirk, his own hands wrapped around his neck. Stiles fought against the hands, his and theirs.

Malia begged him to let go. She begged for him to wake up. Her face floated into frame, she looks terrified. She starts to apologize.

His fingers hurt. It's a sharp quick pain but he could breath again. He blinks back to reality, holding his left hand close to his body. A familiar panic settles around him, his heart pounding over time. Malia chanted sorry next to him, but not touching. She reached out and brushed her fingers against his elbow, causing Stiles to flinch. He looked away in shame and Malia ignored it. She wrapped her hands tightly around his arm, a bit harder than necessary. Her veins turned black, bleeding away the pain in his hand.

They stayed like that until a calming piano jingle interrupted followed by Jarvis announcing the time and reminding the duo of dinner in an hour. His voice was calm, but there was something else, something akin to worry, "Sir would like me to remind you that bath products are provided in each bathroom and all dirty laundry is to be put in the hampers for the laundry service." A map of their floor popped up on the television. A small "you are here" sticker was under the room labeled Chickadee One. Three plus signs were highlighted, according to the key in the bottom corner they were first aid kits. One in each bathroom and one in the kitchen.

"You do smell," Stiles said, his words sounded forced even to his own ears.. Malia rolled her eyes and played along.

* * *

A little while later, while Stiles was off in the shower, Malia wrapped shaking hands around herself. She took slow even breaths trying to focus on Stiles heart beat under the sound of rushing water. Her coyote clawed under the service.

She was scared. Not of Stiles but for him. Her instincts cried for pack and to protect but she didn't know how. Stiles needed her human, Malia wasn't sure could be.

* * *

They arrived fifteen minutes late to dinner. Seven of the minutes were spent standing in front of the elevator door, Malia waiting patiently for him to take the first step. The nine minutes before that they were debating on whether or not they needed to bring a gift or dish to contribute, only for Jarvis to announce that nothing was required. The half an hour before that involved both of them changing multiple times, as instructed by Stiles.

They arrived to an oddly domestic scene. Blackwidow was working through a pile of vegetables with scary efficiency. She handed them off to Hawkeye to transfer into a pot on the stove. The man was shooed away almost instantly by Bruce Banner. "Don't touch," he said, waving the archer away. His tone was teasing, "You know the rules."

Clint whined, sagging into an exaggerated pout, "Come on Bruce, how much damage can I really do by just standing there?"

"Too much," Tony yelled from across the room. He sat at a large table by the window, feet propped up on the table and his chair balanced on the back two legs.

"Reykjavik," Natasha added.

"Iceland?" Stiles asked before he could catch himself. He and Malia stood in the doorway, on the edge of the room.

Natasha nodded and Clint groaned. "We agreed to never talk about that," the man whined.

Something was off the banter, not necessarily forced but scripted. Like they were playing roles - it made Malian tense up and put them both on edge.

Tony perked up, dropping his chair on all fours, "Well now we need to know." The SHIELD agents seemed to ignore him.

"Also, Paris," Natasha mused, smirking at her partner. She held out the cutting board, offering the last of the vegetables.

Something was off the banter, not necessarily forced but scripted. Like they were playing roles - it made Malian tense up and put them both on edge. She pressed in close to Stiles, wrapping his left wrist, her veins subconsciously pulling pain from his bandaged fingers. If any of the Avengers noticed, they didn't show it. Stiles pulled the hoodie tighter around himself, hiding the bruising he left around his own neck.

"France?" Steve guessed from the edge of the island, manning one of the ovens with Thor at his side.

"Texas," Natasha clarified, passing the food to Bruce herself. There was something in her tone, ending the conversation.

"Come young ones," Thor bellowed from the oven. There was an oven mit on each hand: one with cartoon puppies and the other realistic purple flowers. "Friend Bruce has prepared what he calls a vegetable stir fry." Natasha cleared her throat, suddenly at Clint's shoulder. "With help from Lady Natasha and the Hawk."The god added, earning a nod in approval. "Steven and I have made a loaf of meat. He as reassured me it is a traditional midgardian meal. " The man smiled proudly as he pulled out a bread tin of ground beef and offered it out to the teens.

Tony pulled a face from behind them, once again ignored.

Stiles smiled back, it was small but real. The man's genuine enthusiasm was contagious.

"Then let's eat," Tony called, waiving the teens closer to the table and at the two chairs closest to the door. "Serve us up Point Break." he called, "I'm so hungry I'll willingly eat Brucie's healthy thing."

Stiles let Malia direct them, placing herself between him and the doorway. She was tense, and twitchy. She had been since they woke up, she hadn't been able to settle. The coyote was just under her skin.

"Tony," Bruce scolded, carrying the pan of stir fry and a wicker mat to the table.

An alarm cut off what the man was going to say, a red light flashed from the ceiling.

Malia shoved Stiles off his chair and under the table. Her eyes flashed and claws scraped against the table as she crouched on top of it.

Natasha and Clint drew weapons, each training a gun on the shifted werecoyote. Thor dropped his dish, instincts calling for his hammer.

The alarm shut off and a female voice called for the Avengers to assemble before shutting off.

The room calmed in a wave, the Avengers lowered their weapons one at a time. Stiles slid out from under the table, moving slowly and deliberately for Malia. Bruce was a few feet away with food still in his hands. His eyes were closed and knuckles white around the handle. He took slow deep breaths, relaxing a bit at a time. Malia watched him with glowing eyes, growling deep in her throat.

Bruce let out one last breath before opening his eyes, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the werecoyote. His placed the food down with extra care, before fleeing the room.

Stiles placed a hand on Malia's back, rubbing small circles. "Go," Stiles whispered, "We'll clean up."

Clint and Natasha slipped after the Doctor, carefully to move slowly as Malia tracked their movements. Tony followed close behind messing with something on his wrist, "This better be important," he grumbled. Thor glanced mournfully at his fallen meal before disappearing after his teammates.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked glancing hesitantly at the door.

"We're fine," Stiles tried to smile, "really."

Steve looked wary but nodded, leaving the teens alone. Stiles leaned in closer and pressed his forehead into Malia's back. It took time for her to relax enough to get off the table, and even longer before her teeth dulled and claws disappeared. Her eyes kept their supernatural blue as she watched Stiles clean up the fallen meal and put the leftover stir fry into a container.

They went back to their room, stopping long enough in their kitchen to put together a few peanut butter sandwiches. They crawled back up in bed, Malia scarfed down three sandwiches then curled into a tight ball and fell asleep. Stiles nibbled at the crusts of his own food, watching the channel seven news company report on the latest disaster.

* * *

It was somewhere between late at night and early in the morning when Stiles stumbled into the communal kitchen. Memories clawed at his mind making it hard to sleep. He grew restless, his feet carrying him where they please. Malia was still asleep upstairs, tired from draining his pain and wolfing out.

Clint was already in the kitchen when Stiles got there, sitting on the floor next to an open back of oreos. His eyes went to Stiles' neck, then fingers, before settling on his face. "Cookie?" he offered, shrugging at the open space on the other side of the package.

Stiles leaned heavily against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Neither male said anything, the matching bags under their eyes said enough.

* * *

Scott started seventeen different letters, he finished six, and sent none.

Allison was the first to write, her message was three sentences.

To: _chickadee1and2  
_ **"It's not your fault. I don't blame you. I'd do it all again to save you."**


End file.
